Beautiful Things Turned Wretched

I wouldn’t likely have found Nordette Adams and her blog if she hadn’t posted a comment about my belly dancing post. This is the beautiful thing about the Internet, meeting people you likely wouldn’t any other way. You can call me nuts, but this brief exchange is as valid to me as a quick handshake in public, and even more meaningful — however calling me nuts would mean that you are taking something beautiful and being wretched.

Onto my point…

I first, as you can see, went to read her belly dancing post and was very charmed by it. Along with what I noted in my comments to her at my original posting, I was very moved my her simple line regarding her body image: Oh, perhaps if I take off some more pounds and forget the surgery scar ..

I know what that statement means, but more importantly I know what parts of a woman make her think them, believe them, and also hate herself for them. Even more so so ‘say it’. It’s beautiful to see such wretched honesty. Like watching a belly dancer who exposes her ‘imperfections’ to the wretched culture who has deemed them ‘flaws’ yet dances on — not in spite of the exposure, but to defy such judgements. Such joy!

Ms. Adams had just performed a belly dance, for me at least, and I was moved.

True to my word to do so, I went to read more at her blog. There I found her post about Corinne Bailey Rae. I too had watched that episode and was mesmerized by the performance (I too thought instantly of Lady Day) and the song lyrics. It’s like Nordette (surely by now I can call her that?) and I were watching it together in a way.

In her post, she refers to how the song Corinne Bailey Rae performed (“Like a Star”) is like a poem she wrote (“And So Rub Up Against Me, Baby”). This is what she wrote:

The song “Like a Star” reminds me of a similar sentiment I expressed in the poem “And So Rub Up Against Me, Baby” that a white, male blogger trashed saying the poem was about being horny. His inference was that I’m too old to be horny, I suppose. However, the poem is not about sex. It’s about a spiritual connection. I guess that particular reader only looked at the title and eagerly projected his penis into my words.

Now, I must admit, at this time I had not yet clicked to read her poem, but I was already angry. No woman is too old to be horny (unless she should say so). My guess is that his wretched comments are borne of anonymity on the Internet. Shame that the same beautiful thing that had given me the opportunity to meet this woman would also allow for such wretched things.

I calmed down & clicked to read her poem, “And So Rub Up Against Me, Baby”.

Touch me not in flesh that I may sing down the reigning concert halls of
poetry lovers and connosieurs of verse

Wonderful. Like lingerie, poetry this fine may be wispy, brief, & diaphanous, but moves with a firmness and a power that takes your breath away.

So I will choose to linger in the beauty of Ms. Adams’ poetry, and leave her wretched poster alone with his projection.

(Yes, I am calling her ‘Ms. Adams’ again — after such disrespect, someone should show her reverence.)

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